


It's just a trench coat.

by PiratesDragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Castiel's Trenchcoat, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, No mark of Cain here, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:38:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiratesDragon/pseuds/PiratesDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tries to tell himself it's no big deal, stealing Cas's coat. It's not like the angel needed it anymore anyways. And it's not like it meant something.</p><p>It was just a coat.</p><p>Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's just a trench coat.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first Destiel fic I've ever posted and I'm a little nervous about what y'all will think, but please tell me your thoughts in the comments be they good or bad. Since this is only the second thing I've ever published criticism is welcome and encouraged! 
> 
> Obviously I don't own these characters and am just borrowing them for my fantasies blah blah blah... All mistakes you find are my own. (And please tell me if you find any as this is un-beta'd)

The fact that Cas doesn't wear his trench coat and tie anymore isn't lost on Dean. He never says anything about it, but quietly mourns the loss. Cas looking all rumpled and flustered in that overly large coat and crooked tie is one of his favorite things, but he doesn't want to sound like a girl by asking about it. He shouldn't be noticing the angel's wardrobe anyway, there's more important things to focus on. 

Except one day he sneaks into Cas's bedroom and digs around his closet until he spies that tan piece of fabric sticking out of the dresser drawer. Opening the drawer as quietly as possible, he pulls the coat out and quickly makes his way back to his own room. He tries to tell himself it's no big deal, stealing Cas's coat. It's not like the angel needed it anymore anyways. And it's not like it  _meant_  something.

It was just a coat.

Really.

But Dean folds it and shoves it under his pillow anyway, making sure nothing stuck out around the edges. No reason to risk Sam or, god forbid, _Cas_  from seeing it and asking why he has it hidden under there. Dean couldn't even tell himself why, let alone make up an excuse to his bunker-mates. 

 

Later that night, after a day full of researching where they might find Abaddon, Dean lays in bed and runs his hand down his abs. Pushing his fingers past the waistband of his boxers he grabs the head of his cock. Closing his eyes, he pictures the hot brunette he saw at a bar last week and starts jacking his fist. His cock hardens gradually and his hand moves faster, up and down. He spits in his other palm and rubs it over the head, moaning quietly at the sensation. Dean's breathing gets rougher as he gets close, still picturing that girl in his mind. The tension builds and builds until finally-

Nothing.

Dean hovers on the edge of orgasm for several moments, but can't push himself over. He tries picturing the girl again, this time with her mouth around his cock, but that doesn't work either. And it's not like he can just  _stop._

He slams his head back on the pillow in frustration as his right hand continues to pump up and down. Dean suddenly remembers the coat tucked under his pillow and, without really thinking about it,  reaches under with his free hand and grabs the first piece of cloth his fingers touch. Bringing it up in front of his face, Dean tentatively sniffs at it. 

It still smells like Castiel. 

The angel always smells of leather ( _from the inside of the impala_ , he thinks), peanut butter ( _from all the sandwiches he eats_ ), and the faintest whiff of ozone ( _from what little grace is left in his body_ ).

It's a scent that's so distinctly _C_ _as_  that Dean pushes the coat against his nose and breathes deep. Suddenly his balls are tightening against his body and pleasure is rolling over him in waves as he finally comes all over his hand. 

When Dean finally comes down from the high he realizes that he's still clutching the trench coat in his fingers and that– _oh dear jesus–_ he just jacked off to the smell of Castiel, his almost-ex-angel best friend. Quickly shoving the coat back under his pillow he jogs to the bathroom to clean up and splash some cold water on his face. His cheeks are still pink from the orgasm as he looks in the mirror. 

_What the hell am I doing?_

 

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

 

"Dean, have you seen my trench coat?"

Dean practically chokes on the pancakes in his mouth as he looks up at the kitchen doorway. Cas is standing there, looking too "normal" in jeans and a t-shirt, with a slight smirk on his face and his head tilted just enough to keep Sam from seeing it. But Dean sees it and quickly swallows his pancakes in a single gulp because holyfuckingshit _Cas knows_. 

He knows about Dean's late night jack-off and what happened during it. 

He knows that Dean came because of  _him._

"Uh, nope," he replies in a voice that's just a bit too high in pitch. "Haven't seen it buddy."

The word "buddy" feels like lead in his mouth. Can he even still call him that? Doesn't masturbating to the smell of your best friend revoke the right to call him any affectionate pet names? He looks away from Cas and catches Sam's questioning gaze. Dean shrugs his shoulders as if to say "I don't know" and goes back to eating his pancakes and trying to ignore the angel still standing in the doorway. 

"...Okay then," Cas says as he turns away and dammit Dean can _hear_ the fucking smugness in his voice and it drives him to angrily stab what's left of his pancakes with his fork and shove another bite into his mouth. He doesn't look at Sam as he finishes his breakfast as fast as he can. 

And he definitely doesn't look at the coat under his pillow when he goes back to his room to hide from the stupid smirk on Cas's face later that day. 

 

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

 

It's been six days since he stole the damn trench coat and six nights since he jacked off with the smell of Cas in his nose. Dean hasn't touched it _or_ his dick since. He's too afraid, not that he'd admit it, of needing the thing in order finish. 

He also hasn't said more than a handful of words to Cas in that time either. 

Dean knows he can't keep avoiding the angel forever, but he also knows he's not ready to face that knowing look and the conversation he knows will follow. He's not ready for their friendship to become awkward –well, more awkward– because of his stupid dick not knowing that Cas is off limits. And he's definitely not ready for his little brother to find out that he used to take guys home for a fuck just as often as he did girls. 

 

Sam and Cas are sitting in the media room with a bowl of popcorn between them and some old black-and-white horror flick on the screen. Dean stands there in the doorway and looks at them for a moment before continuing on to the library. He's just settled in with an old tome on demonic rituals when a throat clears behind him.

"Dean."

"Cas," Dean says as spins his chair around. "What's up?"

The angel looks so human standing there in his worn jeans and faded plaid shirt that Dean feels a tug in his chest. Cas looks more human because he is more human. There's barely any angel mojo left in him anymore, just enough to heal a paper cut or lock a door from across the room but not much else. Dean isn't sure why that bothers him so much, because Cas seems to be dealing with it just fine.

"We need to talk, Dean." Cas sticks his hands in his pants pockets in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture.

"About what, man?" This is the conversation Dean has been avoiding. He can feel in the thickness of the air around them. When they leave this room their friendship won't be the same.

"I know you have my coat. And that's okay, you can keep it. But Dean..." Cas trails off and his eyes dart around the room a few times before focusing back on Dean. "I heard you that night. And I... saw you, too."

Dean blinks hard a few times as he tries to process that information. "Wait, you  _saw_ me? How did you _see_ me?" he demands.

"You were...Dean you were masturbating," the angel looks away for a moment. "And you had my coat held to your face while you did it."

"I..." Dean flounders for a second. "No, I mean _how_ did you _see_ me?"

"You left your door cracked when you went to bed," Cas says like it's obvious. "I went to get a drink and heard you moan. I didn't know if you were hurt, so I just checked to make sure and that's when– that's when I saw you. Doing that." He flicks a had towards Dean to indicate what "that" is. 

Dean stays silent because really, what is there to say when you're best friend tells you that he actually  _saw_ you jacking off to the smell of his trenchcoat? He already suspected the guy had heard him that night and associated the sounds with Dean's pleasure and that's why he'd been smirking the next morning, but this was different. This was a more intimate thing and Cas wasn't being all smug now. He was downright unsure of himself, standing there with his hands back in his pockets and no longer looking at Dean. This was a Cas that Dean didn't know how to deal with and especially not in this situation. 

"Dean..." Cas starts, but then just stands there like he doesn't know what to say next.

Dean doesn't know what to say either so he tries for levity, "Cas, man, I didn't know you were into voyeurism." 

It doesn't work. The tension is still just as thick in the air and Dean feels like there's a noose tightening around his neck. He's drawing a breath to say something, anything at all when suddenly his face is sandwiched between a pair of hands and there's tight, slightly dry lips crushed against his and freezes because this is not something he ever expected to happen and once again his brain is trying to process unexpected information because–

_Holy fuck Cas is kissing me!_

Just as suddenly he's gone and Dean is left standing there alone in the library as the sound of Cas's retreating footsteps echo along the halls. 

 

Sometime later Dean finally makes his way out of the library without having read a word. His mind is still buzzing over the kiss and what it could mean when he finds Sam still in the media room watching old horror movies.

Dean clears his throat and asks, "Heya Sammy. Have you seen Cas around?"

Sam pauses the movie and pops the last handful of popcorn in his mouth before replying, "Nah man, I haven't seen him since he left me to finish the movie by myself."

Dean nods his thanks and turns away but Sam's next words stop him cold.

"Don't break his heart okay?"

He turns around slowly and there's got to be an incredulous look on his face because that request coming from his little brother feels like a sucker punch. He manages to get his throat working enough to get out a rough "What?" as he leans back against he media room doorframe.

Sam gives him a knowing look and slowly puts the now empty popcorn bowl on the table in front of him. "Man, you must think I'm stupid if you thought I wouldn't notice the looks you two give each other literally all the time, Dean. And I know you don't realize that I  _know_ you're not exactly straight. I saw you once, when we were still in school, making out with James Fremont in the locker room after school. So you can't say I don't know what I'm talking about and avoid this. Because Dean, I _know_ there's more than just friendship between you and Cas. And that's okay, I'm fine with it, of course I am. Just don't break his heart. He's my best friend, too, and I don't want him to get hurt, and especially not by you."

Dean just stood there flabbergasted at everything Sam was saying. How dumb of him to think Sam wouldn't pick up on the fact that he's bi. But... "What do you mean 'the looks you two give each other'? What looks do we give each other?" 

Rolling his eyes, Sam shoots him a look that says  _'Really, Dean?_ ' 

"There's not more between us," Dean says roughly as he steps away from the door. "Not yet."

He leaves Sam smirking and the promise of  _I won't break his heart_ between them.

 

Cas is sitting on Dean's bed, his old trench coat cradled in his lap, when Dean finally thought to check his own room for the angel. He sits down next to his best friend and waits. 

"Dean, I'm sorry," Cas says without looking away from the tan coat. "I shouldn't have done...that. It was inappropriate of me." 

Dean raises his hand and uses a finger on Cas's chin to turn the angel's face towards him. Without saying a word he leans in and gently presses his lips against the other man's and runs his other hand through Cas's hair. Pulling back a little, he looks into his best friends eyes and says, "Never be sorry for kissing me. Not ever."

Cas's eyes widen at that and Dean chuckles a little at the incredulous look on his face, thinking it must be exactly what his own expression looked like after their first kiss. He leans back in to swipe his tongue over those parted lips and hears the ragged breath Cas draws as he pulls away again.

"But, Dean..." the angel licks his lips as his pretty blue eyes roam over Dean's face, frantically looking for answers to a question that has yet to be asked.

"Yeah Cas, this is real and I mean it." Dean rubs his thumb over Cas's bottom lip and smiles. This is what it's supposed to feel like, he thinks as Cas begins to smile back. This is what it's supposed to feel like when you realize you're in love with your best friend and there's a chance that he's in love with you, too. Dean's heart feels like it's going to beat right out of his chest as those crystal blue eyes drop to the coat that's almost falling on the floor.

"I knew you had this," and there's the smugness back in Cas's voice as he says it.

Dean laughs, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, "Well, it didn't seem like you needed it, and I didn't want it to go to waste."

Cas runs his fingers over the trench coat and smiles a wide smile, one Dean hasn't seen since before Cas started losing his grace. Dean gently tugs the coat out from under his hands and places it on the pillows. Cas looks up at him and the smile is gone, his face as serious as ever and his eyes are boring into Dean's as he asks, "Are you sure about this, Dean? About what we're doing? Because I'm pretty sure my feelings for you are, well, a lot more than just lust. And I've seen enough of humanity to know that sex often ruins friendships." 

Dean smirks a little, "Only 'pretty sure', eh? I guess I'll have to make you very sure about you're feelings for me," he goes serious as he continues, "because I know that what we have is a lot more than friendship. And I don't want to ever hurt you by ruining it. I know I'm not the best man in the world but for some reason you like me anyway and I'm not about to let you down."

They reach for each other at the same moment, and clothes are removed and tossed all over the place in a matter of seconds. The sounds of their ragged breathing fill the room as they lay back on the bed and Dean settles on top of his angel. Cas willing spreads his legs and lets Dean's hip slide between them, their erections pressed snugly against each other. Dean once again strokes his thumb over Cas's bottom lip, now swollen and red from his kisses, and says the words that have been building up inside even though he knows it's too soon.

"I love you, Cas."

And Cas– beautiful, wonderful, blue-eyed Cas– says, "I love you, too, Dean."

Dean's answering smile feels too big to fit his face, but it's perfect because he just told his angel that he loved him and his angel said it back and there's only one thing left for him to say.

"But I'm keeping trench coat."

 

END

 


End file.
